


Moving Forward/Running Away

by Flameysaur



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Fluff, Swan Cricket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 14:28:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flameysaur/pseuds/Flameysaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Archie invites Emma and Henry to live with him. Emma isn't sure she can handle it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving Forward/Running Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nothingeverlost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingeverlost/gifts).



> Inspired by [this](http://nothingeverlost.tumblr.com/post/52651702625/swan-cricket-bedroom-house-living-quarters) answered question by nothingeverlost. Just a quick ficlet thing.

Emma was fine with moving in to Archie’s apartment. That, somehow, felt casual and impermanent enough to not bother her. It didn’t matter that when he asked—voice slightly shaking, adorable half smile on his lips, head half bowed—he had the world in his eyes. It was just an apartment. Really, with how little stuff she owned, it was nothing more than him clearing out some drawers for her and her starting to park in front of his place instead of Mary Margret’s. It wasn’t going to be a big deal.

Then he mentioned Henry.

“What do you think of this place?” He placed the newspaper next to her cereal bowl, one long finger pointing out the spot. Despite hours ago that finger was doing delicious things to her, now he was fully dressed, sweater vest, suit jacket, knotted tie. He didn’t look like he could ever do more than smile politely at a girl. Emma loved that about him. Who he was with her wasn’t the man everyone else knew. He gave her something special. He treated her as something special. Emma wasn’t used to being special.

“It’s cute.” She said, leaning over. She wasn’t as dressed as him. She wore his old nightshirt since he wasn’t using it and nothing else. “I guess. Is that an actual white picket fence?”

He blushed. Emma grinned. She loved how easily her little redhead blushed.

 “I thought Henry might like it.” He said, adjusting his glasses.

Emma’s stomach dropped.

 “What?” Her voice—far away and shaking—wasn’t quite right. But Archie didn’t comment. Emma knew better than to assume he didn’t notice.

 “Henry. I mean.” He cleared his throat and looked around his apartment. “He can’t fit in here. One bedroom. A boy his age…needs his own space.” Something flickered through the therapist eyes, old hurts, old wounds, stuff Emma hadn’t been able to touch, not yet. She wasn’t as good at reaching out as he was.

 “I…” Emma tried to breathe. She really did. She wanted to sit here and have an adult conversation about her child the way he deserved, the way both the men in her life deserved.

But she didn’t. Because she couldn’t. Because, again, Emma ran.

“I need—Bathroom!” She jumped up. Almost running to the closet with plumping. She locked the door behind her and curled up on the floor, concentrating on her breathing. It’s okay. It’s all okay. She didn’t _need_ to do anything. No one was forcing her into anything.

Except if she didn’t, would she ruin this? The best thing to come into her life since ever? She thought she had something once, with Neal, but that rushing, exciting _thrill_ of love felt so childish compared to her and Archie. Archie wasn’t thrilling. He wasn’t exciting. He never rushed.

But no one ever, _ever_ made her feel safer.

She couldn’t ruin this. If she ruined this, she didn’t know if she could ever try again. It was so damn hard to try.

But they were picking out a _home_ together. For Henry. For her. He was leaving his apartment, his way of life and what would he get in return? A broken little girl who was still looking for her parents. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t fair. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t _need_ that. He was a therapist. He dealt with broken people all day. Shouldn’t he have someone whole to come home to?

“Emma?” his voice is soft, almost softer than his knock, and if it didn’t tremble, she might have ignored it. “Are you okay?”

She couldn’t answer. Couldn’t answer because she didn’t have one.

 “Emma. If this is too fast…” He trailed off. She could see him, in her mind’s eye, fiddling with his hands, looking at his feet, shuffling his weight as he tried to build up courage. Archie was always so timid, yet he wanted so badly to do what was right. He was so sure there was always a “right” choice and not just two wrong ones. “I don’t mind waiting. We don’t need to rush into anything. I just…” He stopped again. “Please. May I come in?”

Emma looked up. It sounded like he was asking for more than just the bathroom. Slowly, she rose, hands trembling. Emma didn’t know what was “right”. So she picked one of the wrong options.

She opened the door.


End file.
